


BLVD

by kingsofeverything (FullOnLarrie)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1990s, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - Beach, But whatever, Forgot to tag lip piercings, Lol I’m sorry I forgot cell phones weren’t a thing in the 90s, M/M, Masturbation, Nipple Piercings, Piercings, Smut, Suspension Of Disbelief, Weed mention, and making poor choices, and sweet tea, as i'm not a piercer please don't get pissed off about inaccuracies, catcalling, discussion of dick piercings, harry drinks vodka while in a car but he's not driving, harry is kind of obnoxious but i love him anyway, i'm sure they're throughout the fic, myrtle beach, side Niall/Bressie, side Ziam, there ya go now you can't say i didn't warn you, there's not really a plot it's just harry making an ass of himself, too many mentions of bojangles fried chicken probably, which is illegal in a lot of places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-09 04:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18909748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullOnLarrie/pseuds/kingsofeverything
Summary: It’s the first week of summer break and Harry just wants to relax and enjoy his vacation in Myrtle Beach.If only he could stop making an ass of himself.





	BLVD

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is rated explicit, so if you're under 18, you shouldn't be reading it :D
> 
> I was listening to TLC the other day and 'No Scrubs' came on and I needed Harry catcalling Louis from the passenger side of Niall's car. What better place for that to happen than in a fictionalized version of Ocean Boulevard in Myrtle Beach in which the Pavillion is still a thing, the Magic Attic is a cool bar, and piercing was less regulated than it is now, but the SkyWheel, Red Bull and cellphones exist too. 
> 
> Thanks to Nic for being amazing and also for betaing!
> 
>  
> 
> [Fic post is here if you'd like to reblog :D](https://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/post/185208297280/blvd-by-fullonlarrie-kingsofeverything-its-the)

“You tricked me into coming here.” Harry squeezes the toothpaste tube, depositing twice as much as he needs on the brush. He jabs his toothbrush at Niall as he speaks, frowning harder while Niall smiles wider. “Botanical gardens and an _actual_ castle and sea turtles! You lured me here under false pretenses, Niall Horan. Oh my god, this is why you said you’d be DD for the whole week. This is why you got me high. _Niall!”_ Harry shoves him hard enough to get him out of the way of the door, shuts it fast and leans against it. 

Twice the toothpaste seems to quadruple the foam, but Harry is determined to brush his teeth until he can no longer taste the weed. He should shower. And like, clean out his nostrils. And drink some gatorade. Or Red Bull! Both, probably. 

Instead, he sprays extra deodorant under his arms and down the front of his black running shorts. He hates the way his legs look in them, but it’s hot as fuck out, and he’s going to be sitting in a car, so… Harry pulls on a white t-shirt, slides his sweaty feet into his pink flip-flops, pushes his sunglasses up into his hair, and pouts the whole way to the car. Once he finishes his Red Bull, he’s less grumpy, but still in a pretty shit mood. 

“You said you wanted to rent a convertible so you could feel the salt air on your skin,” Harry says, twisting the lid off of his red Gatorade. “But what you meant was you wanted girls to be able to see you in it while you drive up and down the same road all night.”

“Girls _and_ boys.” Niall shakes his head firmly. “And it’s called cruising the boulevard. Or something like that. And everyone does it.”

“Everyone who? How do you know this stuff? Just… No catcalling, Ni.” Harry rolls his eyes and then shuts them. They’re dry and he doesn’t have drops and smoke always irritates them. When he opens his eyes, Niall reaches across him to open the glove compartment. 

“There’s drops in there. Got them when we bought sunscreen earlier today.” 

“Thanks, man,” Harry says, because right there on top of the owner’s manual is a brand new bottle of drops for Harry’s itchy eyes, which provide instant relief. Though he still hides his eyes behind sunglasses, his mood lifts a teeny tiny bit. 

— 

Niall takes him to the Bojangles’ drive through and orders them fried chicken, cutting through Harry’s buzz with the confusing question, “Leg and thigh or breast and wing?” 

Harry shrugs and says, “I want the green beans.”

It’s just not what he wants to do the first week after finishing his junior year of college. Finally. A year later than he should be, because he changed his stupid major and caught fucking _mono_ without even kissing anyone, at least that he recalls. He doesn’t usually get _stupid_ stupid when he drinks, but it’s possible he might get a little forgetful when he smokes _and_ drinks. Speaking of. 

“Okay, so, I’m not drinking, since I’m driving, but I thought you might...” Niall shoves his hand into the front pocket of his shorts and Harry frowns, then huffs a frustrated sigh when Niall starts pulling out airplane bottles of lemon flavored vodka. Half a dozen in total. “Mix it in your drink, if you want.”

Harry murmurs his thanks, picking at the biscuit that came with his dinner. As soon as he brushes the crumbs from his shirt, he pours a little bottle of lemon flavored vodka into his giant, yellow plastic cup of tea, and sips it through the straw, but he can’t taste it, so he pours the other bottles in too, drinking some of the syrupy sweet tea to make room. Niall drives past the dumpster behind the restaurant so Harry can toss his empty bottles out. 

When they get onto Ocean Boulevard properly, after having driven all the way from their cheap hotel near the highway, Harry’s pleasantly full of fast food, still high from earlier, and now a bit drunk as well. And he’s planning to keep sipping his tea all night long. 

It’s so juvenile, is the thing. In the small town he lived in when he was younger, people would ‘go downtown’ which meant driving up and down Main Street from the McDonald’s to the old church at the other end. Such a high school thing to do. Except very few of the people Harry sees are that young. There are, for sure, some teenagers with brand new driver’s licenses, some of them in brand new cars, with ridiculous sound systems, cruising. But there are people of all ages walking up and down the sidewalks, filling stores, arcades, and other attractions.

Niall cuts the music off and Harry complains, but almost immediately shuts up when Niall rolls to a stop behind a line of traffic that Harry can’t see the end off. He knows it must stop eventually. He knows the road isn’t actually that long, having driven on it earlier that day when they first got into town. But at night, with all the flashing neon signs, the line of brakelights in front of them, and the thumping baselines of competing sound systems, it seems infinite. Harry sighs. 

This is why he doesn’t do stuff like this. It isn’t fun for him. All he sees is the light pollution from the neon signs drowning out the stars. All he smells is the exhaust of the car in front of them instead of the ocean they’re driving next to. All he hears is someone else’s music. The air is so sticky and hot that it feels like it’s touching him, and somehow his mouth still tastes like weed. 

Sipping his tea, Harry slouches down in the passenger seat, watching through the windshield, and occasionally looking to his right at the people on the sidewalk. If he closes his eyes and sort of loses focus, he can hear the ocean. Or maybe that’s the weed and vodka. Or a motorcycle a little further down the road in front of them. Harry reaches into the box on the floor between his feet and sits back up, eating a chicken leg and watching Niall people watch as they crawl past in their rental Ford Mustang convertible rental. 

It’s absolutely ridiculous because despite being inside a moving vehicle, they keep passing the same people because they spend more time stopped than they do actually driving, and the people walking from store to store are keeping up with them just fine. Harry wonders why they have to be in the car. He’d probably be happier walking around. 

Niall follows traffic as it loops around, turning left, left, and then left again before turning right back onto the Boulevard, heading in the opposite direction. It’s boring. And if Niall makes him do it again, he’s bringing something to read. Or knit. Niall would die. Harry makes a mental note to find the nearest craft store first thing in the morning and buy a teach-yourself-to-knit kit. 

“Do you think I should get a piercing?” Niall asks and tea almost comes out of Harry’s nose.

“Really?”

“No. Just wondering if you’re awake over there.” Niall reaches over and pokes Harry’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s actually not the worst idea. Cruising the strip or whatever you call it. Anyway. You get a decent idea of where things are. So like, if we want to go to the Gay Dolphin—and I definitely do—we know where it is in relation to the giant Ferris wheel and the, um… What’s it called? The Odditorium. And the, uhh…” Harry points to the big sign sticking out from the side of the brick building. “Body piercing! Free jewelry with purchase! What’re you thinking? Nose piercing? Eyebrow? Dick? Nipples? What?”

“That’s more your thing, isn’t it?” Niall’s always been quick, but Harry has absolutely no chance of stopping him when he’s been drinking. He pinches Harry’s nipple and Harry hisses.

“I don’t know. Feel like it’d be hard to like, not mess with them. They’d probably get infected and—”

“Eww gross, okay. Thanks, Harry. Now I’m thinking about your infected nipples.”

“They’re not!” Harry smacks Niall’s arm. “No, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get my lip pierced.”

“That’d actually be badass, man.” Niall catches Harry’s eyes and nods, then looks back at the road. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, man. You’ve got the whole pouty lip thing going on. People already want to kiss you before they know you half the time. Throw some jewelry on there? That’s sexy, I think.”

“That’s… Have you thought about this before?”

“No. Just thinking about it now.” Niall stops to let some people cross the street, reaches over and pinches Harry’s lower lip, pulling it out and letting it go. “You’ll be beating them off with a stick, Harold.” 

“Don’t try to kiss me, Niall.”

“I make no promises if piercings are involved.”

“Yeah? What if I get my dick pierced? You want to kiss that too?” Harry asks, and Niall shakes his head, pushing his hand into Harry face. Harry licks him before he turns away. “Oh my god, sweet Jesus take the wheel, Niall. What… Who is that?”

Inching along the boulevard, Harry can look all he wants. That doesn’t mean the man looks back. Which is fine, really. Harry sips his tea and studies the man from the ground up. 

The only part of him actually touching the ground is the scuffed up toe of the slip-on Vans shoe on his left foot. He’s sort of halfway sitting on an old, wooden-legged, red pleather bar chair, leaning against the back of it and pushing with his toe on the concrete, the chair goes up on two legs and bumps into the wall behind him. The heel of his right foot is propped up on one of the spindles and he bounces that foot to the beat of the music coming from inside the store. 

He’s so pretty. And tattooed. And pierced. Oh god. Harry flushes and curses Niall and the tiny bottles of vodka but then he catches his straw with his tongue, takes a long sip of what might as well be sweet tea flavored vodka, and looks harder. Suddenly remembering that he’s on vacation. In Myrtle Beach. If there was ever a time for him to do something he’ll probably regret… 

With the tip of his index finger, Harry slowly lowers the sunglasses he’s continued to wear even after sunset, wanting nothing to obstruct his view of the gorgeous guy and when he sees the triangle tattooed on the man’s ankle, Harry swears he feels it like a bolt of lightning. Harry breathes out, voice barely a whisper, “Gorgeous and gay.”

“What?” Niall’s barked question brings Harry partially back to reality. At least in the reality where Niall started dating guys in the last year and a half, even having a boyfriend for about six months or so in the middle, and is now technically competition for the beautiful man with the beautiful armpits, in the loose fitting, bright turquoise tank top, sitting in front of a massive white sign with black lettering that says PROFESSIONAL BODY PIERCING. 

“Dibs!” Harry shouts, much louder than he intended, shoving his sunglasses back on his face just in time to cover his eyes before the hot guy sees him and their eyes meet and Harry spontaneously combusts right there in their rental Ford Mustang convertible. 

“Dibs on what?”

“Dibs,” Harry whispers this time. “On the pretty, tattooed Peter Pan.”

Niall gasps and holds a hand over his heart. “You can’t dibs a person. That’s…”

“Dibs.” Harry crosses his arms and gives Niall what he hopes is a no-nonsense stare. Please don’t let him look like a frog. Now is not the time. “He’s exactly my type, so I call dibs to like, stare at him or flirt or I don’t know, whatever. I’m just saying dibs and that includes everything that may or may not mean.”

“Fine,” Niall easily agrees, shaking his head fondly and lifting the index and middle finger of his right hand off the wheel in one of those casual driving waves that Harry doesn’t think he’s ever accomplished. Probably looks like he’s flipping people the bird or a peace sign, but he’s not sure which. 

Harry turns without thinking, wondering who Niall’s waving at, if somehow someone they know is coincidentally on vacation in Myrtle Beach as well, but his thoughts don’t get far because his gaze follows Niall’s and lands right on the hot guy. He’s smirking and it feels like he’s looking directly at Harry, even through his sunglasses. Harry frowns when the man turns away to laugh, pointing at something or someone inside the shop that Harry can’t see. 

Sitting there, tapping his fingers on his knee, the man’s breathtaking, but when he laughs and smiles and the corners of his eyes crinkle, Harry’s ready to jump out of a moving vehicle just to see him do it again. He refrains. Instead, he watches the man’s hand where his fingers curl over his knee, twitching along to the music—Harry can hear the reggae pouring from the speakers now—as he swings his leg back and forth, pivoting where his foot rests on the spindle. Harry inhales sharply and covers his mouth. There’s a rip in the man’s jean shorts, on the inside of the left thigh, and it’s big enough that he _has_ to know it’s there. Has to have made the decision to wear them. His tight red boxer briefs are plainly visible through the hole in his shorts every time he moves his other leg, and Harry sips his tea in order to keep himself from doing something stupid like catcalling the guy. 

Niall lets out a loud whoop, drawing Harry’s attention, the hot guys’ attention, and the attention of every other person within a twenty-five foot radius. Then he shouts so loudly that Harry covers his ears, “I wanna sop you up with a biscuit!”

“Did you just say—”

“Like that? Lady said that to me when I got off the elevator earlier.” Niall smiles proudly and shouts, “Bressie! Liam!”

And look at that. Somehow someone they know _is_ coincidentally on vacation in Myrtle Beach as well. Two someones. Bressie and Liam stop on the sidewalk and Niall pulls up a few stores down from the hot guy. As soon as they pass him, Harry can’t see him at all. The display rack of t-shirts blocks him completely. He pouts a little, wrenching his neck around but only catching the bill of his Dream Man’s backwards snapback when he leans out of the store for a second. 

“Are you guys here for the summer?” Bressie asks, climbing into the back of the convertible behind Liam and barely fitting with his legs bent. 

“No, just the week. Why? Are you staying?” Harry turns, pulling his knee up in his seat, facing Niall and throwing his arm around the back of his seat. He shifts again, tucking both legs underneath him. 

“Yeah, we both got summer jobs waiting tables. We’re staying in this student housing, which is kind of like a hostel? But we’re thinking about finding a place. Like, we each want to have our own bedroom. Can’t exactly bring someone home when you share a room with three other guys.” Liam laughs and pulls one of Harry’s curls. “Haven’t seen you in… forever”

It doesn’t feel like it’s been that long, but it has. Harry frowns. “Yeah, sorry. I…”

“Life happens, man.” Liam adjusts Harry’s sunglasses and says, “So you’re here for a week?”

Harry pulls himself around so he can see Bressie and Liam and when he does, he sees his Dream Man again, except this time he’s standing on the other side of the shop, leaning against the wall, arm resting on the raised counter, talking to the guy on the other side of it. They’re both looking at Harry. He thinks. Maybe. He tries not to stare even though they wouldn’t be able to tell through his sunglasses. 

“Yeah, one week and I’ve got so much I want to—”

“H, that dude’s looking at you!” Niall reaches up and tilts the rearview mirror, winking at himself, and making Bressie giggle. 

“Shut up!” Harry smacks Niall on the shoulder. “Oh god, but he is though. I think you’re right. What should I do?”

Niall shrugs as they head down to the other end of the strip to turn around again. Now that they’ve picked up Bressie and Liam, Niall’s so busy flirting that Harry’s mostly left to decide what to do for himself. He finishes his tea and crunches on a piece of ice from his cup, and as they slowly approach the shop where Harry’s Dream Man is still standing, and still watching him, Harry puts his thumb and finger just inside his mouth and whistles. It’s so shrill and loud that all three of his friends’ heads whip around to him, the hot guy and his friend both jerk to attention, and Harry’s face instantly flames. 

“Did you just whistle at that dude?” Niall laughs through the last half of his question, stopping short when he isn’t paying attention to the car in front of them. 

“Oh god, I did.” Harry spins back around in his seat and slouches down, both hands over his face. “Oh god. Is he—”

“Of course he’s watching you, H. We’re going like two miles an hour and he’s right fucking there.” Niall shakes his head and checks the mirror, directing his attention to Bressie. “And _you_ told _me_ ‘no catcalling’.”

Bressie grins and says, “Well, it worked for you, so I see why he tried it.”

When Niall’s neck turns as pink as Harry’s face feels, his evening improves a tiny bit more. 

“Is he still looking?” Harry asks.

“Dude, sit up.” Liam reaches up and pokes Harry’s side. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Harry sits up. The worst that immediately happens is that Harry’s Dream Man—as he will forever be known—is still watching him, cocky smirk playing on his lips, and Harry wants to hide on the floorboard. Dream Man raises his eyebrows and purses his lips and Harry decides that he can at least attempt to play along. He catches his straw with his tongue and sucks vodka and sweet tea flavored melted ice, then feels around on the floor until he finds his bottle of red Gatorade which he pours into his big, yellow, plastic Bojangles’ cup. 

When he looks up again, his Dream Man has his back to the street, elbows resting on the raised counter. The guy on the other side leans down to talk to him, then Harry’s Dream Man lifts the hem of his loose tank to wipe his brow, revealing dimples in his back at the bottom of his spine, and a spectacular ass, even in loose jean shorts. Harry sighs. And looks up. And sees his Dream Man looking back at him over his sunkissed shoulder.

The car lurches forward and in a still kind of high, kind of drunken panic, Harry calls out, “I love you, Dream Man!”

“Oh, my god, Harry!” Liam groans, holding his face in his hands. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not— I don’t know why I did that.” Harry bends his body in half, putting his head between his knees. Maybe he’ll pass out. 

“Sit up, man.” Niall pats Harry’s shoulder until he does, leaning back against his seat. “I’ll just get us off the boulevard. We can go to that rooftop bar at the Magic Attic.”

Niall follows traffic to the end of the street and has to turn left. The street is blocked off and there’s a cop leaning against a golf cart directing traffic. The same is true at each of following turns until they get back to the spot where they’ll have to turn right back onto the boulevard heading the opposite way. The cop at the intersection tells them to go on down the street, follow the loop, and exit on the other side since it’s obviously not an emergency.

It feels like an emergency to Harry, but all he can do is suck down his red Gatorade, and wait for his inevitable humiliation. It arrives right on time. 

The second Harry’s Dream Man is in his sight, he seems to see Harry as well, jumping down off his chair and disappearing into the shop. Harry tries not to let it hurt his feelings. He knows how offended he’d probably be if someone screamed their love at him while he was trying to work. As they get closer to Dream Man’s shop, Harry doesn’t notice anything unusual. He sips his Gatorade and wishes he had another biscuit and pouts because he thought he’d get away with acting like an idiot, but of course not. But when he can easily see Dream Man at the raised counter again, this time sitting on top of it, he can hear the music blasting from the shop’s speakers, and Harry covers his face with his hands. 

He turns to Niall and says, “For what it’s worth, I didn’t ask for his number.”

“No, that’s true.” Niall nods, covering his mouth and obviously holding back a laugh. 

It’s fine. Harry has a good sense of humor. He can laugh at himself. He likes TLC, though he’s always preferred “Waterfalls” and “Unpretty” over “No Scrubs” but that’s not what this is about. 

Niall sings along and Harry dances in his usual way, arms waving in front of him instead of out to the sides, since he’d probably smack Niall in the face. Dream Man is perched on top of the raised counter, with a stapler in his hand, mouthing the words into it like it’s a microphone, and Harry can’t help but watch him. He’s magnetic, really. And his impromptu lip sync is the most enthralling thing Harry’s ever seen. Two girls cross the sidewalk and enter the shop, heading straight for the raised counter and taking Dream Man’s attention. As the car rolls past the shop, Harry faces forward in his seat, pouting a bit while he halfway listens to Niall and Liam and Bressie discussing late night swimming in the ocean versus rooftop drinking at the Magic Attic. 

“Hey! Hey, um…” Harry turns towards the raspy voice and he wonders if he looks as shocked as he feels. Dream Man is jogging towards their rental Ford Mustang convertible, with his eyes on Harry. He spins around and walks backwards, scrunching his nose and pursing his lips. “My name’s Louis. You know, like, since you said I’m your Dream Man, you should know my name, right?”

“Yes! Hi… Hi, Louis.” And even though he’s in a moving vehicle, his manners win out and he offers his hand for Louis to shake. He takes it easily, still walking backwards. “I’m Harry.”

“Good to know.” Louis squeezes Harry’s hand and lets it go, stopping and waving as traffic picks up and Niall drives them away. 

— 

Before he goes to sleep that night, he searches for information about lip piercings, reading about nipple piercing options as well. It’s a bit overwhelming and it’s probably best to start small. 

The next day is overcast and Harry forces Niall out of bed, pushes him into the bathroom, and drags him downstairs for the free breakfast. With their stomachs full of all-you-can-eat muffins and donuts, and two styrofoam cups of coffee each, they climb into the car, and Harry drives them south. Niall complains the whole time they’re walking around the botanical gardens because, even though he remained mostly sober the night before, he stayed up late texting with Bressie while Harry slept. So he’s cranky and tired and whiny and by lunchtime Harry gives up. 

“Fine, Niall. You’re such a baby.” Harry follows him onto the shuttle near the zoo that they didn’t even get to see. There were chickens and some sheep and a horse and a cow, but Harry wanted to see the otters. 

“Sorry, H. I’m just exhausted.” Niall pulls his snapback down over his eyes. “Let’s go to the beach. I’ll nap. Then we can do dinner and whatever you want to do tonight.”

“I was thinking about that lip piercing.”

“Yeah? Go for it.”

“I mean, I think we should park and walk. Like, there are a million piercing places on the boulevard, and I’d like to avoid, um… Louis.”

“Oh, yeah…” 

“Yeah.” 

The shuttle drops them near the rental convertible, and Harry drives them back to the hotel where they change into their swimsuits, then he drives them down to the beach. Parking is a mess and they wind up finding a spot a few blocks up and walking down with their stuff. Niall is true to his word and falls asleep as soon as he sets up his chair and lays down. Harry reads more about the piercings he’s interested in and finally settles with exactly what he wants done. A labret piercing with captive bead ring. Probably. He’d really like to get his nipples done, but maybe some other time, if he handles the lip ring well. 

Since he plans on walking around instead of sitting on his ass in the car all night, Harry wears his ripped skinny jeans with a black t-shirt and his comfortable boots. After dinner, they find a parking place downtown and Harry insists they start at the Gay Dolphin. He’s disappointed.

“It’s not very gay. Like, at all.” Harry pushes through the exit of the gift shop, careful not to knock his bag into anything. His souvenir Gay Dolphin mug is breakable. 

“Hey, Bressie and Liam want to meet up.” Niall waves his phone in Harry’s face, then taps at the screen. “Liam’s already off work. He’ll be here in a few. Bressie says he’ll meet up with us later.”

“Where are we meeting Liam?”

“Down at the end where one of the other piercing places is.” Niall points at the opposite end of the boulevard, far from Louis and Harry’s weed and vodka fueled embarrassment. Great. Harry leads the way.

At the front of the shop is a poster showing some of the different piercings available, and he laughs at the spaces for genital piercings because they’re all covered in squares of black paper that say ‘MUST BE 18+ TO VIEW’ in silver ink. Carefully, he lifts the corner of the one covering the Prince Albert, and he inhales sharply. He doesn’t know what he expected. He’s seen pictures of them before. But this feels more up close and personal, maybe because he’s actually waiting to be pierced. Suddenly aware of his dick in his jeans, Harry tries to discreetly adjust himself. 

“How can I help—” Louis cuts himself off and stands there blinking. “You? How can I help you?”

Harry’s heart just about punches through his rib cage. “I— I thought you worked…” He points uselessly in the direction that he thinks the other shop is.

“Yeah, we’re, um… All these shops are owned by the same people, so we move around. So you’re getting pierced?” Louis clears his throat and reaches under the counter, setting a clipboard with a small stack of paper on it in front of Harry. “Need you to fill all this out. When you’re done, I’ll take you in the back, and we’ll get you pierced.”

Harry nods and, trying to keep his hand from shaking, takes the pen from Louis, moving to the side to fill out the form. 

“Hey, H!” Niall calls from the sidewalk. “Li’s here, so we’re gonna walk around while you do this.”

“Oh… Okay.” Harry waves them off and goes back to his clipboard. He was kind of hoping for the moral support, should he need it. But he can hold his own hand. Or maybe Louis can do it. Though it doesn’t seem possible since he’ll be the one doing the actual piercing. 

“Harry?” 

“Yeah?” Glancing up from his clipboard, a smile tugs at the corner of Harry’s mouth when he sees the slight flush on Louis’ cheeks. At least they’re both a little embarrassed. Not that Louis really should be. Harry's the one who acted like an idiot.

Louis nods towards the poster that Harry was studying earlier. “So what were you looking at?” 

“The Prince Albert,” Harry says without thinking. Because he was looking at the picture of the Prince Albert, but not… like that. 

“Oh!” Louis lifts a hand to his chest, eyes going wide. “Oh, well, if you want you can finish up the paperwork in the back.”

“Okay.” Harry nods and Louis steps around from behind the raised counter. He’s only a few inches shorter than Harry, and up close he’s so much prettier than he seemed from the passenger side of the car the night before. Long, long eyelashes that probably bump against the lenses of his sunglasses, and blue eyes that Harry would compare to the ocean, only he’s very recently seen the Atlantic up close and personal, and it’s more of a… murky olive green. 

He follows Louis through the store to the back, trying to work up the courage to correct Louis’ mistake and tell him that he’s only planning to pierce his lip, not his dick, and yet, he remains completely silent. As much as he’d like to lay the blame at Louis’ feet for being hot and confusing and in the wrong shop, Harry knows it’s his own fault. And as if the hole he’s dug himself isn’t deep enough, he keeps digging, nodding along as Louis tells him what the piercing procedure will be like. 

When Louis says the word penis, Harry has an out-of-body experience. That’s the only explanation. He makes a sort of grunt-whine combination that probably sounds like a wounded donkey, but Louis keeps talking, and it’s like Harry’s watching himself from the outside, helpless to stop it when Louis tells him the difference between a traditional Prince Albert and a reverse Prince Albert—namely that both pierce the shaft and the urethral opening—and asks which one he wants, and instead of saying literally anything else, he says, “I’ve always been more of a traditional man, myself.”

It’s as if he’s been possessed by a demon, except instead of normal demon behavior—Harry would pay for some good old fashioned head spinning and projectile vomiting—he just keeps agreeing with everything Louis says with regards to what is starting to seem like an imminent dick piercing. 

“Bent barbells are pretty much ideal for PAs because they’ll follow the path of the needle easily and aren’t as likely to get like, caught in your zipper as a captive bead ring.” Louis chuckles when Harry blanches at the thought. “Now, some people will say you can change the jewelry after six weeks, but I always ask clients to wait at least six months with genital piercings.” 

“Sounds great!” Harry grins, and he knows it’s probably a bit maniacal, but that’s precisely how he feels. 

“Right. Well.” Louis claps his hands and says, “Just finish up that paperwork and we’ll get started. If you’d like, there’s a topical numbing cream that takes about 20 minutes to kick in.”

“Oh, god, yeah. That’d be perfect,” Harry says, rather than telling Louis, ‘I don’t want my dick pierced.’ 

“Alright. We’ll do that first, then. I can, um…” Louis points at the door, taking a step towards it. “Give you some privacy.”

“No need!” At least Harry’s cheeks have the sense to blush at his idiocy as he unzips his jeans and pushes them—and his briefs—down to mid-thigh right then and there. 

“I…” Louis freezes in place and Harry’s afraid that he’s somehow broken protocol, but he seems to come back to himself and says, “Okay, just hop up in the chair.”

Harry does as he’s told, hopping onto the paper covered chair that reminds him of his dentist back home, and his dick and balls bounce. He wonders if that same sort of motion will hurt once his penis is pierced. Because, apparently, in his head he’s already come to terms with the fact that he’s unable to say no or stop this whole thing from happening. He picks up the clipboard and finishes filling it in. 

With new, disposable, black latex gloves, Louis dips two fingers into the tub of numbing cream, and for a split second Harry invisions those same fingers inside him. Blood starts to rush to the one place he definitely does not want it to be, so he holds his hand out for Louis to deposit the cream in, wanting to just get on with it, smear it on his dick, get it pierced, and get the hell out of there. 

“Oh… I have to…” Louis sort of waves the two numbing cream covered fingers and says, “I have to apply it.”

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Louis is going to touch his dick in like, five seconds. Four. Three. Oh god. 

Harry miscalculated because Louis is already cupping the head of his flaccid—thank heaven for small miracles—penis in his left hand. He gingerly spreads the thick cream over the head and the top of the shaft, rolling his chair away when he finishes, and tossing his used gloves in the trash. 

“Now, um… We’ve got about twenty minutes before I can wipe that off and pierce you.” Louis stands up and rifles through a drawer, pulling out what looks like a small plastic bag. He rips it open and shakes out a large paper square. “It’s like a sterile blanket. Kind of like a paper hospital gown? Just um… maybe drape it over, in case someone walks by. I have to leave the door open if you’re in here alone.”

“Okay,” Harry says, because agreeing with every word Louis speaks is what he does now. 

As soon as Louis leaves the room, Harry digs his phone out of his pocket where his pants have slipped down below his knees, texting Niall while checking over his shoulder every few seconds to be sure Louis hasn’t reappeared. Thankfully, Niall must have his phone handy, because his return texts come quickly.

_Harry: I’m getting a Prince Albert_

_Niall: That is not a lip piercing. That is a penis piercing. Bressie said I need to make sure you know._

_Harry: I know._

_Niall: What made you change your mind? Louis suggest it? You know you can’t have sex for like two months after you get it done?_

_Harry: I DIDN’T CHANGE MY MIND_

_Harry: IT’S SIMPLE MISCOMMUNICATION_

_Harry: BUT NOW I’M SITTING HERE WITH NUMBING CREAM ON MY DICK_

_Niall: So I’m sitting there, barbecue sauce on my titties_

_Harry: NOT NOW NIALL! SOS! SOS!_

_Harry: I’VE TRIED TO TELL HIM I DON’T WANT MY DICK PIERCED BUT WHEN I OPEN MY MOUTH I KEEP AGREEING WITH EVERYTHING HE SAYS! I PHYSICALLY CANNOT STOP MYSELF FROM NODDING! I THINK THERE’S SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME! DID YOU DOSE ME??_

_Harry: OMG NIALL DID YOU????????_

_Niall: I DID NOT DOSE YOU! DID LOUIS GIVE YOU ANYTHING?_

_Harry: JUST THE CREAM ON MY DICK_

_Niall: You do realize what that sentence looks and sounds like. I read it out loud to Bressie and Liam._

_Harry: COME AND RESCUE ME! I SAID SOS!!!!!!_

_Niall: We’re on the SkyWheel!_

_Harry: Wtf_

_Niall: Sorry! Tell Louis no. No is a complete sentence!_

Harry doesn’t bother texting back.

“We’ve still got a few minutes,” Louis says, and even though his voice is quiet, Harry jumps, jostling his dick and balls under the paper sheet. His penis feels weird. Not quite numb and not _not_ numb. It’s like it’s fallen asleep. He’s caught up in trying to determine if he can actually feel the paper blanket on his dick or if he’s imagining it, so he misses most of Louis’ words. “...thought I’d start there.”

“No,” Harry says firmly. A good, solid no, likely to give even his mom pause.

“No?” Louis looks surprised and maybe a little impressed. “I mean, that’s fine. Not everyone wants to know what’s going to happen before I do it, but you’re the first client of mine to want to go into a PA blind.”

“I…” Harry shakes his head. “I like to live on the wild side.”

That one shocks him. Because he typically keeps as far from the wild side as he can. 

Louis snorts and reaches for the paper towels on the table, scooting his stool closer to Harry in the dentist chair. “That’s fine, but like, I do want to ask you some questions.”

“Shoot!” Harry even makes finger guns. He’s an unstoppable force of stupid. 

“Right.” Louis clears his throat, rolling his stool closer, and reaching out one gloved hand. While he wipes the cream from Harry’s dick, he talks, and it’s less weird than Harry expected. “So, some men find that their partners are really into the PA piercing. And it can depend on your, um… go-to position as to which is better, a traditional or reverse PA. So, like, are you a missionary position person or a doggy style person?”

Harry sputters, choking on absolutely nothing but his own inability to form words. And instead of answering, he says, “That seems a little personal.” As if his dick literally resting in Louis’ hand as they speak is somehow… impersonal.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s, um…” Louis shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut, and pursing his lips. “It’s like, um… People say reverse PA for missionary, traditional PA for doggy.”

The line between Harry’s eyebrows deepens. He can feel it. “I mean… doggy? Yes, doggy style.”

“Then, you’re good to go with the traditional. Supposedly hits the G-spot dead on, not that I’d know.” Louis finishes cleaning the numbing cream from Harry’s miraculously still limp cock, tosses the dirty gloves, and puts on a fresh pair, picking up a Sharpie from the table. “Just going to mark where the needle will go in.”

Harry watches while Louis uses the marker to put a black dot on top of the shaft of his dick, still thinking about the G-spot that Louis mentioned, because he _does_ know what that is—he’s read Cosmo—and trying to figure out how to respond. Louis picks up a package with a clean needle in it and explains to Harry about sterilization and probably a dozen other things, but Harry doesn’t hear him, because inside his head he’s screaming nonsense mixed in with the occasional no. All that comes out is a steady hum.

“Hey, so, while I’ve got you, um… captive,” Louis says, grinning and biting his lip. “Any dreams about me last night?”

“What? No!” Harry yells. Screeches, really. And Louis looks crestfallen. “No, sorry. I, um… Sorry.”

“No, no. That’s my fault. Shouldn’t’ve, um… Wasn’t very professional of me. Sorry.” Louis cradles Harry’s dick in his hand, squinting at the black dot on top of the shaft. “Shit. Okay. Okay. Listen, I know I’ve already like, crossed the line, but… When you’re with men, do you exclusively bottom?”

Blinking and not saying anything isn’t the way to answer a question. “No?”

“Oh, I…” Louis frowns and continues, “Did you understand what I said about PA piercings and anal sex?’

“No?” Harry completely missed that part. Must’ve been when the term G-spot was playing on a loop inside his brain.

“Okay. I said that while PAs can enhance penetrative vaginal sex, the opposite is often true for anal. So, like, if you top, your partner might not like it.”

“Oh,” Harry says. He hasn’t topped in a while. Hasn’t had sex in a while, actually. It’s been a busy semester. Two semesters. 

“Right. So. If you have any questions?”

“Nope.” Harry shakes his head, then shakes it harder. Maybe he can knock himself out.

Louis nods and brings the tip of the needle to the spot on the top of Harry’s shaft. “Alright, so, you’re going to feel a pinch, and then—”

“No!” Harry shouts so loudly that Louis physically recoils, his wheeled stool rolling backwards, and he just sits there, staring at Harry, so Harry tries his damnedest to explain, except he yells, “I don’t want my dick pierced!”

“Okay, okay. Hush,” Louis says it like he’s talking to an infant, looking side to side as if someone’s going to come rushing into the room to save Harry. “No one’s going to force you. Is that what’s going on? Did you lose a bet or something and that’s why you’re—”

“No!” It would be helpful if he stopped screaming. He swallows and makes himself speak in a normal tone. “No. No bet. No. My friends think I’m an idiot. I _am_ an idiot, actually.”

“I… Okay.” Louis drops the needle into the sharps box and says, “If you’re not getting your dick pierced, could you, um… pull your pants up?”

Harry gets his pants up, zipped, and buttoned in record time. “Sorry.”

“If you didn't want the PA piercing, why’d you fill out the paperwork for it?”

“I didn’t mean to! I just wanted my lip pierced! You asked what I was looking at on that poster and I said the Prince Albert because I was looking at it, but I didn’t want one. And then I just…” Harry groans and hides his face in his hands, but now that he’s able to speak somewhat honestly, he kind of wants to keep going. “I couldn’t say no to you.”

“Well, that’s stupid.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Do you still want the lip piercing?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know what kind?”

Harry nods. “Just one. I want a ring in my bottom lip.”

“Left, right, or center?”

“Is one side the gay side?”

Louis cackles, dropping his head down and resting his elbows on his knees. He sighs, smiling, and points to his own lower lip. “No. I’m pretty gay and I’ve got snake bites.”

“Is there, um… Like with the Prince Albert? Is there a better placement depending on like, I don’t know…”

“No. I mean, aftercare if super important with any piercing. But with lips, like… You can kiss, but not like, sloppily? No one else’s saliva needs to come anywhere near the pierced area. And like, no other body fluids either.” 

Come. Come. Louis is talking about _come_ and Harry has lost the ability to form words again.

“So, left, right, or center?”

Multiple choice questions have never been Harry’s favorite. He takes a moment to think. “Right. ’Cause like, then I could technically kiss someone with the left side of my mouth, and I feel like most people go right. Like, they tilt their heads to the right when they kiss, so…”

“Sound logic.” Louis nods and scoots closer to Harry with a smaller sterilized needle and a smaller Sharpie. “You want to make the mark?”

“No, um… I’d rather you did it.”

“Okay, then. Sit back.” Louis pats Harry’s knee and Harry can’t take his eyes off of the spot where they’re touching, even through faded black denim. 

Reclined in the chair, Harry crosses and uncrosses his ankles, twisting his fingers together in his lap, until Louis lays a gentle hand on his knee again.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just nervous.” Harry sucks his lower lip into his mouth and bites down.

Louis taps his own lower lip, bites it, and says, “You’ll have to be careful, if that’s a habit.”

“Shit. Yeah.” Rubbing his thumb over his lip where the piercing will be gives Harry a little thrill. He can work on the lip biting thing. 

The piercing itself is so quick that Harry doesn’t have time to get worked up about it before it’s done. Then it’s just sitting still while Louis preps the area beforehand, then afterward, pulls the ring through, adds the little metal bead, and cleans up. 

Harry partially listens to him when Louis explains again about healing and aftercare and everything, but he makes sure that he takes every printed handout that the shop has available, and he buys everything Louis suggests that he might need to take care of it. 

And then he leaves.

At least he got his lip pierced. 

—

A couple of days later and they’re nearing the end of their week at the beach. Though Harry might be driving the rental Mustang back by himself if Niall gets his way, because the entire time Harry was having a crisis over piercing his dick, Niall was applying for jobs. After they got off the SkyWheel, Bressie and Liam took Niall from place to place, asking for job applications and filling them out. He’s already gotten offers from a gift shop and an ice cream parlor, though he says he’s waiting for the restaurant where Bressie works to give him a call. 

“Can’t believe you’re abandoning me,” Harry says, pouting from his spot on his hotel bed. 

“Not abandoning you. You could stay too, you know. Liam and Bressie are already planning to get a place together, and I’m going in with them. I’m sure with four of us, we could probably afford to rent a nicer place. Would be fun, I think.”

Harry shakes his head. The only thing fun about this vacation to Myrtle Beach is that it’s almost over. 

Which is why he can’t figure out how he finds himself standing on the sidewalk on the boulevard, watching Louis chat with a customer, and making the decision to get another piercing. Maybe his belly button. 

Louis does look at him a little strangely when he sees Harry in the shop, but Harry ignores that, lifting a hand to wave. He smiles, and wanders to the section of the store where they keep the sharks tooth necklaces and postcards. By the time the customer at the counter leaves, Harry has his arms full of pretty much every type of shitty, lame souvenir they sell. He dumps his armload onto the raised counter and hesitates a second before looking up to meet Louis’ eyes.

“Forgot to buy some gifts when you were in the other day?” Louis asks, bagging Harry’s purchases. He swipes Harry’s card and hands it back.

“No, um… Well, yes, but no. I…” 

“Wanted to get your dick pierced?”

Harry barks out one of his loud, obnoxious laughs, but he manages to answer properly. “No, um… My nipples?”

“Asking or telling?”

“Telling.” Straight faced, pitching his voice deeper than usual, Harry says, “My nipples.”

Louis snorts and shakes his head, passing him a clipboard full of forms to fill out again. 

The next thing he knows, he’s back in the dentist chair, shirtless, and shaking with anticipation. He’s not sure what made him decide to take the plunge and forego the belly button piercing altogether. The clamp Louis uses on his nipple hurts, but in the sort of way that makes Harry’s dick hard, so he bites his top lip, as he has been training himself to do over the last forty-eight hours, takes a deep breath, and as soon as he exhales, Louis pushes the needle through, then pulls the bent barbell through, attaches the ball on the other end, and asks, “Need a minute?”

Yes. Yes, he does. Harry nods and Louis pushes his stool away, offering Harry water and reminding him not to take aspirin, but to take ibuprofen for the swelling later. Not that it’ll help anything now. The problem isn’t that it hurts. The problem is that hurts _good._ His nipples have always been sensitive. He quit running track in high school because his nipples were constantly chafed and he had to run in uniform, which unfortunately included a white polyester tank top. He ran one race with Band-Aids covering them, but he sweated them off before the race was over, and crossed the finish line holding his tank top away from his chest. 

Aside from the chafing though, he likes the pain. He’s always played with his nipples when he masturbates, and with the few boyfriends he’s had, he’s always loved riding them while they pinch and pull at his nipples. It’s literally the reason he wanted them pierced in the first place, though he’d mostly convinced himself to wait. 

Harry inhales, filling his lungs, then breathes out through his nose slowly, but his dick is still half-hard in his shorts, because that’s what he decided to wear tonight. The same basketball shorts he’s worn all day. And when he opens his eyes, he can see it. The thin material of his shorts drapes over it and makes it seem obscene when it isn’t even fully erect. At least Louis doesn’t seem to notice it.

“Ready?” Louis asks, waving the clamp, and tapping the tip of it against Harry’s other as yet unpierced nipple. When Harry nods, Louis pinches Harry’s nipple with the clamps, Harry’s dick twitches, and he hisses. Louis’ eyes dart from Harry’s nipple to his face and then to his cock. While Harry is distracted, panicking that Louis thinks he’s some sort of freak, Louis pushes the needle through, effectively changing the subject in Harry’s mind. 

With the second piercing done, Harry can’t move, frozen in place in the dentist chair, both nipples and his cock throbbing in time. The plan was to go out to some club that Liam and Bressie frequent, but all Harry wants to do is go back to the hotel and jerk off.

“So…” Louis tosses the needle into the sharps container, and throws out his gloves. “Why didn’t you get these the other day when you got your lip done?”

“Oh, um…” Harry reaches up to pull on his lower lip and stops himself just in time. “Needed to adjust to the idea. You know, like, no more biting, pinching, pulling my lip, but like, the same applies to my nipples, so…”

Of every possible reaction to Harry’s words, Louis goes with, “You bite your own nipples?”

“No, no, um… I mean, I can’t say I haven’t tried, but no.”

“So, you had to adjust to the idea that you wouldn’t be able to play with your nipples?”

Harry nods enthusiastically. 

“And you couldn’t like, put off the lip piercing? I’m just saying, there’s a big ass sign out there that says ‘Pierce Two, Get One Free’ and my boss isn’t going to let me give you the discount.”

“Oh, no, um… That’s fine. I wanted to come back.”

Louis squints one eye and scratches at his beard. “Why?”

Running over the thoughts in his mind doesn’t help. The only reason he came back to the shop was to see Louis, but he’s not sure Louis even remembers his name. He searches his mind for a good, sensible answer, but then Louis stands from his stool and drops his Sharpie. When he bends over, it’s in slow motion, and when Harry sees how amazing Louis’ ass looks like that, he blurts out, “Because I wanted to see you again.”

“Really?” Louis straightens up, crossing his arms and widening his stance. He’s intimidating like that and Harry’s heart beats faster; all he can do is nod. “I thought you were just fucking around. Like, the other night with the whistling and the catcalling. And then, I mean, at first the whole Prince Albert thing…”

“No, I—”

“Thought it was a joke, right up until you got your dick out, but then… I don’t know.” Louis shakes his head, but he looks fond and his nose scrunches and maybe Harry didn’t fuck things up too badly. 

“I was nervous. And stupid. And like, the other night I was high and didn’t want to leave the hotel, but then Niall dragged me out, and gave me vodka and sweet tea and fried chicken and—”

“Bojangles’?” 

Harry nods and Louis smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, and it’s like a jolt to his heart. If Harry didn’t know better, he’d think he and Louis were soulmates or something ridiculous. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. Zzz. Misunderstandings. Plural. I feel like there’ve been a lot of them.”

“A fair few, yeah.”

“Tommo!” Someone shouts, and Louis looks to the door. 

“That’s me. I, um…” Louis offers Harry his hand and pulls him out of the dentist chair. “Guess I’ll see you around?” 

“Yeah, um…” Harry searches for something to say, anything other than, “Yeah.”

There’s a girl waiting to get her septum pierced. Harry overhears her on his way out of the shop. He texts Niall as soon as his feet hit the sidewalk.

_Harry: Where are you?_

Rather than stand there in front of the shop, Harry starts walking, figuring he’ll either find Niall first or Niall will eventually text him back, but his phone dings before he can pocket it.

_Niall: Rides!_

Harry finds Niall, Liam, and Bressie waiting for him just inside the main entrance to the amusement park. They spend the rest of the night there, though Harry avoids any rides that have restraints that might irritate his nipple piercings. 

— 

When he wakes up the next morning, he decides to make the most of his last day in Myrtle Beach. 

After they eat their fill of the free continental breakfast, Niall and Harry spend the rest of the day shopping. They hit both of the big outlet centers, driving from one end of town to the other, then they walk around Barefoot Landing and Broadway at the Beach, spending most of their remaining vacation money. 

That night, they let Liam and Bressie take them out to a smaller local bar with live music and cheap drinks. As soon as they get there, Harry makes a beeline for the bar. With two drinks in his hand so he doesn’t have to go to the bar again for a bit, he turns around to find none of his friends. Harry frowns and makes his way around the room, looking for them. He spots Liam talking to a fucking drop-dead gorgeous man with dark hair, and a million tattoos. 

Squinting because he can hardly see in the dark of the bar anyway, Harry tries to focus. The guy looks familiar, but they’ve walked past thousands of people over the last week, so Harry gives up trying to place him, and looks for Niall and Bressie instead. Clearly, they don’t want to be found, because they’re not inside the bar. Harry checks every corner and both bathrooms twice. Finally, he pulls out his phone to text Niall and finds a message from him telling Harry that he and Bressie went outside to _talk._ Harry goes back to the bar, orders another margarita with a shot of tequila on the side, tips the little plastic shot glass into his mouth, still sucking the lime as he walks away.

So on their last night in Myrtle, his friends have fucked off, leaving him to hang out by himself. Harry sighs quietly and finds a space to stand at the end of the bar. The first band isn’t very good, but the second one is better, playing what sounds like original music in between creative covers of older songs by Green Day and Oasis. Clutching his drink in his hand, Harry lifts it above his head so no one bumps into it, and weaves his way through the crowd, closer to the stage. He pushes between two guys who don’t seem to be paying attention to the band, carrying on a conversation about the upcoming motorcycle festivals later in the month. 

With his eyes on his drink, being extra careful not to spill since he’s actually feeling tipsy, Harry maneuvers until he’s in the center, directly in front of the stage. He looks up and his mouth drops open when he sees Louis standing behind the mic, looking impossibly beautiful, even sweaty from the stage lights and the exertion of performing. Someone knocks into Harry’s shoulder from behind and he spills some of his drink.

Louis raises one eyebrow, covers the mic with his hand, leans down and says, “Fancy meeting you here, Curly.”

Thankfully, Harry has the loud music of Louis’ own band to blame for the lack of conversation, because all Harry says is, “Hi.” Then Louis opens his mouth and starts singing and Harry makes yet another drunken decision that he’ll probably regret come morning, and forces his way back through the crowd, away from the stage and Louis. 

He can’t think when he’s that close to Louis. His mind floods with thoughts and images and he needs to be able to breathe for a second. The back door to the bar is propped open, so Harry makes sure that it doesn’t shut completely when he steps into the alley. He jerks backwards and his eyes go wide when the first thing he sees is Liam and the hot tattooed guy from earlier furiously making out against the wall. Giving them a wide berth, Harry walks in a semicircle, finding an empty spot near the corner. With his head resting against the wall behind him, Harry looks up at the night sky.

Back home he has the part-time bakery job he’s had every summer since he was fifteen. His mom is there. And her cat is there too. But… his sister is in New York, and his dad is in LA, and while working at the bakery is kind of fun in a nostalgic way, it doesn’t pay that well. He doesn't get to bake anything, only works the register and sweeps up. And there’s no beach. Decision made. He just has to tell someone.

When he looks, Liam and the hot tattooed guy are gone, and he’s alone, so he heads for the door. Maybe one more margarita will give him enough liquid courage to ask Louis on a date. He reaches for the handle, but the door swings wide open before he can grab it.

“Oops!” Harry lays his hand over his heart.

“Hi, Harry.” Louis steps into the alley, watching him warily. “That’s your name, right? Kept calling you curly in my head, but—”

“Yeah, sorry.” Harry closes his eyes, wondering if he can find the door without looking. He’s never going to be able to string enough words together to ask Louis out. He can probably avoid him all summer.

“Don’t be. Was looking for you, actually. Set’s over and I wanted…” Louis takes a deep breath, holds it for a few seconds, then lets it go. “I wanted to ask if you’ve tested your theory.”

“Huh?” 

“You know. Your theory. The lip piercing kissing thing.”

Harry shakes his head quickly. “No, um… haven’t had the chance to test it out yet.”

Nodding and bouncing a bit on his toes, Louis offers, “Want to?”

“Are you—” Harry looks around, expecting to wake up from a dream. “Are you serious?”

Louis nods, pursing his lips. “Totally serious.”

“Then I definitely want to.” 

“Your theory, your move.”

Harry leans in so slowly that he’s not sure if he’s actually moving or if his mind is playing tricks on him until he’s definitely closer to Louis than he was a moment before. During his lip piercing, he kept his eyes closed out of fear, even while Louis was marking where the needle would go. He’d already been jumpy and figured Louis’ close proximity would only make him more nervous. He was right because, as soon as he opened his eyes after Louis said he was finished, even knowing he was there, Harry jerked backwards. 

Tonight, he’s almost as anxious as he was when Louis almost pierced his dick. But he powers through, forcing himself not to blink in case he should wake up from what has to be a dream, and tilting his head to the right. 

Watering from being held open, Harry’s eyes have apparently had enough because despite his efforts, he blinks. A barely there press of lips, so soft a touch at first that it almost tickles, grows firmer when Louis’ hands find his hips and bring him closer. Lifting his right hand to cup Louis’ jaw, Harry sighs as Louis gently sucks Harry’s lower lip between his own. 

Louis pulls back, beard brushing against Harry’s cheek and making him shiver when Louis whispers, “Theory holds up.”

“Yeah.” Harry stops himself from saying anything about bias or sample size. 

“I’d, um… I’d like… I was going to ask you out. You know, like on a real date, but, um…” Louis says, taking another step back, and Harry’s stomach drops. “You’re leaving like, tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“Thought so. Don’t suppose you’ll be vacationing here again in like, June.”

“I, um… Actually, I’m… My friends? They’re staying here and like, working all summer. And earlier tonight, um… I decided to stay too.”

“Did you really?” 

“Yeah, um… I mean, I have to go home tomorrow because I need to return the rental car and like, pack and stuff. And tell my mom.” Harry rubs his thumb over the crease between his eyebrows and says, “Guess I need to find a job and a place to stay too.”

“Important. Definitely.” Louis lifts his hand to Harry’s upper arm and squeezes, sliding it down. 

—

_One year later…_

— 

Graduation is such a relief. Harry’s just glad to be done at this point, walking away with a bachelor’s degree and a mountain of student loan debt. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do come September, but at least he has the summer sorted out.

His own rust bucket of a car gets him down to Myrtle Beach this time, after spending the first week after graduation with his family, and while he’d really just like to relax for the next few months, he knows that’s not possible. The house they rented the previous summer was nice, but Harry didn’t spend a lot of time there, staying at Louis and Zayn’s place almost every night, so this summer he’s not bothering to pretend that he and Louis don’t live together. Even though technically, they don’t. Not yet anyway. Harry hasn’t seen him since April when he came down for spring break and before that Christmas. He misses Louis so much it kind of hurts a little, despite their constant texting and FaceTiming. 

Which is why he drives past the road Louis and Zayn’s little rental house is on, continuing on until he hits the boulevard and finds a place to park.

It’s strange how smells have such a strong tie to memories. The humid salt air mixes with the car exhaust from the stand-still traffic and the patchouli and sandalwood incense burning in the shop and Harry is thrown back to the night he almost accidentally got his dick pierced. He’s still giggling when he walks into the shop.

At first Zayn doesn’t look up, busy staring at something on his phone. Naked pictures of Liam, probably. But he knows someone’s there because he says, “Anything I can help you with?”

“Maybe.” Harry leans against the raised counter, bending down to rest his chin on his folded arms. 

“He’s in back with a client. Be out in a second. How’ve you been, man?” Zayn pockets his phone. “Glad you’re here. We need the help. And Louis’ll be a lot more fun to be around.”

“Louis _is_ fun to be around.”

“Yeah, when he’s not missing you.” Zayn tips his head towards the back of the shop.

Harry turns just in time to see Louis follow behind an absolutely massive man—even bigger than Bressie—as he exits the hall that leads to the piercing studio. His eyes go wide, watching the large man make his way out of the shop, because he’s walking like his cock is two feet long and Harry’s pretty certain what that means. The man leaves and Harry looks at Louis, lips pressed together to keep himself from laughing. Every now and then he’ll imagine what he would’ve done if he’d gone through with the Prince Albert. Somehow, he thinks that things wouldn’t have worked out as well with Louis if he had.

“PA?” Soundlessly, Harry mouths his question, Louis nods, and Harry grimaces, taking Louis’ offered hand and following him to the back. 

“Don’t leave me out here all night!” Zayn calls out, and Louis flips him off over his shoulder.

Alone, finally, Louis shuts and locks the door behind them, pushing Harry with both hands on his shoulders until the backs of his legs hit the dentist chair and he topples over into it. Louis climbs on top, straddling Harry’s thighs. 

“Hi,” Harry whispers, tilting his head back and puckering his lips. “Kissy.”

Of course, Louis kisses him. Spent most of last summer kissing him. Among other things. Harry silently self-fives over his ability to finally say no to the PA piercing because Louis would’ve never let him fuck him with it. His exact words were, “Been there, done that, never doing it again.” 

“Missed you so much,” Harry mumbles his words directly into Louis’ mouth so that as soon as he’s finished talking he can go right back to kissing. It’s the best. Maybe because it was the absolute worst spending the first two months after he and Louis got together not kissing. Sure, they kissed, but always gentle pecks. And Louis fucked him almost exclusively from behind up to that point because Harry would get worked up and forget about his lip in the heat of the moment. 

Louis scoots forward, centering himself on Harry’s lap, and grinds down, pulling a surprised gasp from him. “Fuck. Missed you too.” 

With his hands holding tightly to Louis’ hips, Harry loses himself to Louis’ kisses, forgetting for a moment where they are. “Stop, Lou. We can’t.”

“Why not? I don’t have another appointment for like half an hour.” Louis dips back down, sucking Harry’s lower lip into his mouth. 

“Rules! Rules, Lou.” Specifically, one rule put in place after Zayn walked in on Harry giving Louis his first post lip piercing blowjob in the piercing studio. Harry shakes his head and says, “No sex in the shop. Zayn will kill us. Or worse, like, pierce my dick while I’m sleeping or something.”

“He would never.” Louis sits up and traces the outline of Harry’s erection where it’s trapped in his jeans. “You know, he actually said ‘you cannot have sex _with each other_ in the shop’ and, I mean…”

“What?”

“There’s a loophole.” Louis crawls off of Harry’s lap and sits on his wheeled stool, rolling a few feet away. “We can watch each other jerk off, but like, not touch. Then we’re technically not having sex with each other.”

Harry snorts, clapping his hand over his mouth. “Zayn would disagree.”

“Probably. But I’m not planning on telling him. And like, if he finds out, it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission.” 

Narrowing his eyes, Harry slowly says, “That’s sneaky.”

Louis shrugs one shoulder. 

“Okay, let’s do it,” Harry agrees and giggles at Louis’ obvious surprise. They both look towards the door, and it’s definitely locked, but Louis gets up and double checks it anyway, stopping to kiss Harry one more time on his way back across the room. 

“Ready?” Louis asks, pushing his shorts down just enough to free his cock and get a hand around it. 

Immediately, Harry follows suit, undoing his jeans and wiggling them and his briefs down to mid-thigh. He matches Louis’ strokes, watching Louis’ hand, anticipating each movement and copying him, almost in sync. 

When Louis swipes his thumb through the precome at the tip, Harry _feels_ it. When Louis uses his free hand to tug on his balls, they both groan. When Louis twists his wrist on the downstroke, Harry does the same, and it’s as if they’ve both got their hands around his dick. He’s never jerked off with a boyfriend before, and now he wonders why. Maybe it wouldn’t have been as hot as it is with Louis.

The closer he gets to his orgasm, the harder it is to pay attention to Louis’ every move, but he tries because if he keeps his eyes on Louis’ hand it’s almost like Louis’ fist is the one he’s fucking into. 

Harry squeezes the base of his cock, trembling when heat gathers below his belly button as soon as he strokes himself again. His hips buck up off the chair and his breath catches when Louis lets out a stuttering whine, come dripping over his fingers where they’re still stroking his cock, working himself through his orgasm. 

The sight brings Harry closer to his own release, and he’ll reach it in no time if Louis keeps talking to him.

“Made me come so fast, baby. From across the room. Didn’t even touch me,” Louis says, voice raspy and quieter than normal. Leaning back against the wall, he watches Harry through half closed eyes. “You’re close too. I can tell. Aren’t you?”

“Yeah— Yes,” Harry hisses, jerking himself faster.

“Missed your cock. So big… Feels even bigger when it’s inside me.” Louis stands, kicking the stool behind him, and coming closer to Harry, eyes trained on the movement of his hand at first. But then he glances up and says, “Play with your nipples, baby.”

Harry pushes his shirt up, pinching his nipples one at time, tugging on the rings that replaced the curved barbells. A Christmas present that Louis gave him, though it was definitely a gift for them both. 

“Harder. Like I do it,” Louis says softly, and Harry instantly obeys, moaning uncontrollably when the first rough pinch sends a surge of pleasure through his body. “Hush, baby. Zayn’ll hear you.”

“Oh god.” Harry bites down on the side of his lower lip in an effort to control himself, but Louis doesn’t make it easy. 

“Need you to come soon. Got an appointment in a few minutes.” 

Half an hour can’t have passed already, but Harry doesn’t waste time, jacking himself faster, pulling on his nipple rings, and not giving himself a chance to feel any relief from the pain as he moves from the left side to the right. His orgasm unfurls, muscles tensing and relaxing, as he clamps down on his right nipple with his thumb and index finger, closing his eyes and visualizing Louis’ hands on him when he finally comes. 

Dropping his head back against the chair, Harry keeps a loose grip on his cock, and lays his other hand over his throbbing right nipple. Harry looks up at the ceiling, voice rough when he says,“That was amazing.”

“You always are.” Louis closes the distance between them, pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead. He cleans the come from Harry’s skin with a paper towel, tossing it in the biohazard trash can, while Harry tucks himself back into his jeans. “I only have the one other appointment tonight. If you want to hang around.”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I want. I’ll hang out up front with Zayn.”

As if the mention of his name called him into existence, Zayn bangs on the locked door and yells, “Next appointment’s here!”

“Be right there!” Louis shouts back, pulling Harry out of the chair. They both triple check the room to be sure there’s no evidence and Louis wipes the chair and stool down with Lysol. He unlocks the door, and Harry expects to find a disgruntled Zayn standing there, but the short hallway is empty. 

With his hand resting on the small of Harry’s back, Louis walks him upfront to meet his next client, leaving Harry and disappearing into the back of shop again. 

Harry knows he looks guilty. He’s never had a good poker face. And he can’t contain his loud, barking laugh when Zayn looks him dead in the eye, holds up the piece of paper he’s been writing on so Harry can read along as Zayn says, “‘Addendum to the rules: No sex of any variety in the shop, including, but not limited to: oral, vaginal, anal, or self stimulation, i.e. if someone is touching a penis, they better pierce it.’ Got it?” 

“Yes. Sorry,” Harry says, voice cracking. He covers his face, trying to hide the blush, but it’ll probably still be there when they wake up in their bed in the morning. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! ❤
> 
>  
> 
> [Rebloggable fic post is here :D](https://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/post/185208297280/blvd-by-fullonlarrie-kingsofeverything-its-the)


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